


A Dead Man's Song

by littlecloud



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Angst, Episode 2x06 spoilers, Gen, Hurt, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-31
Updated: 2013-10-31
Packaged: 2017-12-31 01:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1025471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlecloud/pseuds/littlecloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An overview of Bass and Miles' friendship over times of hardship, including a scene from 2x06 that may contain spoilers (though nothing definite is stated). Told from Bass' POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dead Man's Song

Hundreds of people - bodies, at least - were to Bass what Miles' sword was to him; there were always so many around that he could not function on his own. Noise soothed him. Nothing was ever quiet, but he preferred to be listening to sounds outside of his head. 

After his family passed, the first one - before Emma, before Shelley - Miles had to sing lullaby after lullaby at night if he wanted to get any rest. They shared a bed - him laying vertically, Miles horizontal. When his insides felt like they had been emptied out into his brain, thrown in a garbage bag, the organs rotting his thoughts, that was when his best friend understood the importance of density. He stayed close and loud and intimate, a constant reminder that he was just _there_. Bass wanted to kiss him. Needed to be held by a father, comforted by a mother, and idolized by sweet girls, the smallest of siblings. He and Miles both pretended that their friendship could become that _, brothers parents kissers touchers_.

It was not always like this for Bass, the desperation to have fullness. To be disciplined into not shoving knives in his chest. At parties, he'd sink into corners, leave on his own, without latching intangibly onto the rhythm of a stranger's heartbeat come dawn. He would not cry into their still shoulders and call it sweat.

But it didn't get that bad until Miles left, too, shading the memory of his lullabies. Bass forgot the words, the tune. So, he fell into slumber only to the coos of his victims - being tortured, and still never hurting as much as he had.

-

Now, he is going to die. He doesn't even believe he will get a headstone, a cross, and certainly not the flowers and suicidal loved one he gave his little sisters. He asks Miles if he can give him his heart, his everything, what was supposed to be his future; Miles is not warm. His breaths will stop in seconds. 

The only receptive face is Charlie's, almost ethereally so. A fleeting question: _her eyes, is that the color of the sky in Heaven?_ Then, they cloud, the pupils buoy, maybe relief, maybe not. "Take care of your uncle, kid," seem like good last words, his legacy as Sebastian Monroe, former partner of Miles Matheson. She responds with one of the hardly visible nods they've learned to communicate in.

Her mother is about as dead as he is. No apology will register - hum the sad mechanical nature of her actions, ever since The Tower.

Miles is not there; Bass is back in his corner, alone, admiring the heat of his gurney. Warmer than his best friend. Though, it is all very surgical for someone who cannot be saved. He thinks about insomnia, how he must touch eternal slumber now, and decides he'll make up his own damn lullaby. 

Finally, he is able to sing his own self to sleep.


End file.
